


flood the sky

by ADreamingSongbird



Series: harbor [5]
Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Ash Lynx Lives, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, eiji will Protecc his ash from everything (but especially from ash himself), snapshots from the journey to recovery from trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 21:37:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18269780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADreamingSongbird/pseuds/ADreamingSongbird
Summary: A new apartment marks a new beginning. It's just like New York, except that it's not.Or: Ash's mental ghosts won't stop haunting him as easily as he'd like, and it's hard to run from the past forever, no matter how hard he tries.(Part of a series but stands alone.)





	flood the sky

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is part of a series of stand-alone post-canon fixit fics focusing on ash and eiji finally getting their happy ending. they can be read in any order! for once the title does Not come from vienna teng's "harbor", but instead is inspired by "you are the moon" by the hush sound.
> 
> warnings for non-detailed talk of past rape/csa/abuse, nightmares, a huge anxiety/depression spiral, and mentions of golzine !!

_Thump!_

Eiji sets down the last box and dusts off his hands, beaming. “Okay! That is everything!”

Ash surveys their living room. The floor is barely visible under all the boxes, but he can’t help feeling satisfied. It’s theirs, a modest little apartment in Tokyo near Eiji’s university—theirs, for the two of them, and no one else. It’s much smaller and simpler than their luxury condo in New York. The walls are kind of thin, the dishwasher is loud when it runs, and the grocery store is around the block, not downstairs.

It’s absolutely _perfect._

“Now we just gotta unpack, huh?” He turns and looks to Eiji, resting one hand on his hip. “Well, you’re the master. What goes where?”

Eiji gives him a dry look. “We labelled all of the boxes for a _reason,_ Ash.”

Ash snorts. “Yes, we did. It’s almost as if I was talking about the contents of the boxes, not the boxes themselves, isn’t it?”

Eiji stalks over to a box labelled _kitchen_ and hefts it up. “If you want to be a stupid American who gets stuck on—on, oh, little things that don’t matter, but… I think there is a more concise word for this, right?” He looks to Ash, quite literally asking for Ash to help him roast himself, and cocks his head to the side.

The worst part is that he’s cute, because it means Ash _is_ gonna help him. “Semantics,” he supplies, picking up the second kitchen box and following him. “Or you could just call me a pedant and be done with it.”

“Yes. That.” Eiji sets the first box down on the countertop and turns to start wiping the cabinets clean so he can put away the dishes. “You can be a pedant all you want, but it means I will not make you dinner.”

Ash leans over him, pressing him against the counter, and nips the paper towel out of his hand to wipe the top shelves. “You want me to _starve?”_

“If you are so determined to crush my hipbones the first day we move in,” Eiji complains from under him, “definitely yes.”

“Hurry up and grow a few more inches, and I won’t have to.” Ash finishes wiping and drops a kiss to the back of his neck before he pulls away, and Eiji rolls his eyes as he turns around.

“You are so rude to me all the time,” he says, looping his arms around Ash’s waist. “You big American bully.”

He looks up with those big brown eyes, and a rush of affection drowns Ash’s heart for a moment. He drops the paper towel on the counter and wraps his arms around Eiji, drawing him close against his chest, and lays his cheek against his hair. “Your big American bully, if it helps.”

“It does.” Eiji leans into him for a moment, sighing. “Mmph. Moving boxes got you all sweaty. Sticky. You need a shower.”

“As if you’re any better.” Ash pinches his arm, and Eiji yelps and swats his shoulder. “Stinky like your favorite food, huh?”

“Oh, so you want natto for dinner?” Eiji turns his face up to him with a tiny grin, his hand cupping Ash’s jaw. “I can do that.”

“Now who’s the bully?” Ash mutters, pouting a little. Natto is so gross it’s not even funny. It just tastes… bad. It tastes like… like a combination of rotten beans and betrayal. “At least I’m not threatening your actual well-being.”

Eiji laughs and leans up on his toes to kiss him. It’s short and sweet and he pulls back almost immediately, patting his cheek. “Maybe you should keep these things in mind before you bully your poor Japanese boyfriend, hm? You are not in America now! Natto is more common than you would like!”

Ash huffs and leans down for a second kiss. Kissing Eiji is worlds better than thinking about natto. Especially kissing Eiji in the kitchen of their new apartment, where they don’t have to worry about anyone accidentally walking in on them like Eiji’s sister did, even if Eiji’s right and they’re both kind of gross and sweaty. Kissing Eiji is just _nice._ It feels nice and Ash always feels loved.

He breaks that kiss after a few more seconds, and Eiji hums appreciatively against his mouth as he pulls back and kisses the corner of his lips. “Mm, Ash…”

Part of Ash wants to sweep him up and kiss him more, to push the boxes aside and clear off enough room on the couch that he can just hold Eiji and trace the lines on his hands and cover his face with kisses and hold him and hold him and hold him. The rest of him shoves that desire down—it’s too much, and anyway, they have other things to do. Like unpack.

Besides, if Eiji wanted to take a break and cuddle and kiss for a while, he’d have said so. Ash can’t help feeling a bit annoyed with himself for wanting to linger when Eiji clearly doesn’t.

So he withdraws, letting his hands fall from Eiji’s back, and steps back. “Wanna put away the plates while I get the drawers lined?”

“Huh?” Eiji blinks a couple of times, then nods quickly. “Oh! Sure!”

Once they get into it, unpacking and settling into their apartment goes quickly. Ash handles the bathroom while Eiji makes their bed, and they work together to hang all their clothes up in the closet. Two or three hours later sees them collapsing onto the couch, their living room floor finally visible, as outside, the moon starts to climb into the sky.

Eiji flops against his side and groans. “I am _hungry_.”

Ash drapes his arm around his shoulders and slouches down against the cushions. “Same.”

“I should cook,” Eiji sighs. He starts to get up, but Ash tightens his arm and pulls him back down. “Ash…”

“Let’s just order in.” Ash tugs him down to lie across his lap, head on his thigh. His hair is still damp from his shower, and Ash threads his fingers through it and rubs his scalp. “You’re tired. Take it easy for tonight.”

Eiji groans again, rubbing his eyes, but he’s already lost; Ash can tell by the way he’s gone boneless, melted against his leg. “You are making this very difficult to argue…” he complains, squinting up at him and reaching for his other hand to twine their fingers together. “Oh… that feels nice.”

“Yeah, well, maybe for once in your life you shouldn’t argue with me.” Ash strokes his hair away from his face and squeezes his hand fondly. “I’m hungry, too.”

Eiji sighs and closes his eyes, thumb absently rubbing the back of Ash’s knuckles. “Mm. What do you want to eat?”

“Dunno.” Ash shrugs. “Not picky.”

“Except when you are.” Eiji chuckles and pulls Ash’s hand up to kiss his fingers. Ash’s heart squeezes in his chest, and he lifts their joined hands to brush a kiss to each of Eiji’s knuckles, featherlight touches, _one-two-three-four_.

“I hate, like, two foods and you call that picky?” He shakes his head. “You really are just impossible to please.”

Eiji laughs.

They lapse into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, and Ash keeps stroking through his hair. A sliver of moonlight falls through the window and illuminates part of his cheek, and Ash traces it gently, looking down at him.

Eiji is just so soft and sweet, lying there with his eyes closed and his expression relaxed and open. He might be asleep, actually, Ash realizes, and his heart squeezes again. Even though they sleep in the same bed just about every night, there’s still something special about when Eiji falls asleep on him like this—it’s intimate in a way that takes his breath away, even now, months after moving to Japan.

It hits him, then, that he’s sitting here in a sparkling metropolis an entire world away from New York City, in an apartment where he’s just moved in with the one person he loves more than anything, snuggled up together on a lumpy sofa after a long day of moving boxes, and that his biggest problem right now is figuring out what to eat for dinner.

Comparatively, it’s a damn good problem to have.

His fingers have stilled in Eiji’s hair, he realizes, and belatedly he starts to stroke through it again as he swallows a sudden little lump in his throat. It’s soft and thick, and he thumbs through the strands, carefully separating each lock. “I… always used to daydream about this, you know.”

Eiji makes a tiny sound in his throat. “Mm… you would daydream about being tired and hungry after doing housework?”

Ash gives him a dry look, and holds it until he opens his eyes. “Yeah. Exactly that.”

Eiji giggles and squeezes his hand. “Sorry, sorry. Go on?”

“No, I won’t. You went and ruined it.” Ash looks away, feeling his face heat. God dammit. He was trying to be sweet for once! Serves him right for being in love with a fucking gremlin.

“Aaash,” Eiji wheedles. Ash refuses to look at him, petulant, until he sits up and scoots to settle between his legs, arms looped around his neck. “Ash, you can say it, I will not tease this time!”

Ash huffs, but folds his arms about him again so he knows he’s not really upset. “Yeah, right. You still didn’t say what you want to eat, either, and I’m starving.”

Eiji hugs him tight and nuzzles his face against his cheek. “I daydreamed about having you here with me, too,” he admits, and just like that, the tightness is back, squeezing at Ash’s heart. “All the time.”

Ash presses him close, lets him lean into his chest, and rests one hand on the back of his neck as if to reassure him he’s safe. “What… was it like?” he asks, carefully. Eiji never talks much about his year of grief—he sometimes mentions things that happened that year, but not how he felt, how he was. Ash knows him well enough to know that that’s intentional. “You never said much about it, so I know it can’t have been easy on you.”

“Oh, god…” Eiji lets out a breathy, humorless laugh and rubs at his eyes. “I do not really like thinking about it, to be honest? It was… it was difficult.”

Ash winces. “Sorry.”

“It was not your fault.” Eiji pats his head and snuggles close, tucking his face into his neck. “I just… I missed you very much, I guess. I… it felt so unfair that after everything happened and it was all over, I still could not—you were gone, and I would not be able to see you again… and it was very hard to fit back in with people who had not just lost someone, but I tried.”

Ash lets out a slow breath and tightens his arms, pressing Eiji close and leaning his cheek against his hair. It’s strange, thinking about how he was, back in New York. He was so certain that he didn’t deserve Eiji’s love, in those days, that he never realized how deep it already ran, or how much his loss would hurt. It feels selfish, looking back. He was always keenly aware that he couldn’t bear to lose Eiji, but somehow he always assumed Eiji would easily move on after losing him.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, because what else can he say?

“You do not have to be,” Eiji tuts, but Ash shakes his head a little.

“I am.” He strokes his hand over the back of Eiji’s shoulder, traces along his shoulderblade. He’s warm in his arms, soft and pliant as he lies against his chest. “I just… didn’t think. Couldn’t see what was right in front of me. And it wasn’t fair to you. But I won’t do anything like that again, I promise. I’m here now.”

“Mm.” Eiji sighs, kisses his collarbone, and gives him a tiny squeeze. “That makes me happy.”

“You make me happy.” Ash presses a kiss into his hair. He smells of jasmine shampoo. “I’m not kidding, y’know. I used to daydream about living a simple, normal life, without guns and mansions and torture and bullshit. Just… me and someone who loved me. And nothing else interfering, just me and someone I could be happy with, who would never abandon me or sell me out. So.”

Eiji hums softly, threading his fingers through Ash’s hair. Ash leans into his touch and closes his eyes, relishing the weight of him pressing against his chest and the warmth of his body and the softness of his caresses. “Some dreams come true, then.”

“Yeah.” Ash drums his fingers on his back. _He’s_ the dream come true. “You still haven’t told me what you wanna eat, though.”

“I do not know,” Eiji whines, snuggling into his shoulder and closing his eyes again. His eyelashes brush Ash’s neck. “I am sleepy.”

Ash prods his side. “Nope. You gotta eat first. You made me eat dinner before crashing way too many times for me to let you slide this time.”

Eiji grumbles. “Pick for me.”

“Fuck it.” Ash shifts and stretches to dig his phone out of his pocket. “There has to be a Pizza Hut somewhere near here. If I can’t read the page, you have to order for us.”

“So American,” Eiji murmurs, laughter in his voice, and Ash just rolls his eyes and presses another kiss into his hair.

* * *

_“You’re pathetic trash, and you’ve only managed to get out of the gutter because I pulled you out. Don’t think you can hope to be_ anything _without me.”_ Dino’s eyes blaze like cold fire. Ash swore years ago that he was done being afraid of him, but in this moment he feels like a child again, helpless and tiny and frozen.

_“You’re dead,”_ he says, taking an uncertain step back. He’s twenty, but his body is eleven again, small and defenseless and exposed. His voice is high with fear like it hasn’t been in years. _“You’re dead. You can’t touch me again.”_

_“I don’t need to.”_ The old man almost laughs. It’s cruel and cuts like knives. _“I’ve already done more than enough. You’re mine, no matter what, and you’ll remember soon. You’re just like me. You can never escape, no matter how far you run.”_

_“You’re dead,”_ he insists, taking another step back. _“Leave me alone!”_

There’s a gun in his hand. He raises it, wondering why it took him so long to notice, and aims, and his finger moves on the trigger, and—

Ash wakes in a cold sweat, heart thundering in his chest. It’s dark, but only as dark as it ever gets in the city—through the streetlight and moonlight, he can see the outlines of the room, the edge of his bed, the wrinkles in the blanket. He’s not in New York. He’s in Tokyo. He’s not an abandoned child. He’s safe.

He lets out a shaky, shuddering breath. It was a dream. Just a dream.

Thoughts racing, he tries to relax again, but his body is stiff and tense, ready to spring into action, to fight or to flee. _You’re safe, stupid,_ he tells himself, over and over, but it doesn’t stick, and the roiling mess of anxiety in his gut refuses to settle. Minutes crawl past like hours, agonizing and painful.

God. Fuck. Dammit.

Blowing out another breath, he rakes a hand through his hair and slowly sits up. Maybe he’ll just sit in the living room and read for a while, until he settles down and his skin stops crawling. Might be better, and—

“Ash?”

Eiji’s voice is soft and sleepy, and his touch on Ash’s arm is light as a feather. Ash still jerks violently in surprise as his heart nearly leaps out of his chest.

_“Shit!”_

“Oh—sorry!” Eiji rolls over, props himself up on one elbow, and squints up at him in the dimness, eyes sleepy but concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Nightmare,” Ash mutters, looking away. He can’t tell if it’s moonlight or streetlight on the floor. Maybe both. “Go back to sleep. S’fine.”

“You are trembling,” Eiji murmurs, and gently reaches for his hand.

“Oh,” Ash breathes, and lets him. His touch is warm.

Softly, tenderly, Eiji guides him back down to the pillows, pulls the blanket back up, and cradles him close, and Ash squeezes his eyes shut against tears of pure relief as he presses himself against Eiji. How does Eiji make him feel so safe? Fuck. He has no idea, but it _works._

“I… Eiji…” It’s a little hard to breathe. It’s a little harder to talk. “I, uh, I’m, it’s…”

“Shh. I have you.” Eiji kisses the top of his head and rhythmically strokes his hair, slow and sleepy. “I am here. You are safe. Sleep, Ash. Everything is okay. We are safe. No one will ever hurt you again.”

Ash clings to him like a lifeline and tries to remember how to breathe. “Promise?”

“Yes.” Eiji kisses his head again. “Promise.”

Ash takes a deep breath. Another. This one is less shaky. The third is steadier than that, and finally, he closes his eyes.

* * *

Morning comes too fast and too early, like it always does, and Ash rolls over, squints, and glares at the sunlight. It’s too fucking bright. Why does it have to be up already? There’s no fucking need. Ball of bitch-ass plasma and gas in the sky. Fuck that. He pulls the blanket back upover his head.

“Ash,” Eiji coos, and there’s a light caress to his cheek over the blanket. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Mmnngh. Still sleepin’.”

Eiji laughs. His weight shifts on the mattress, and then the blanket gets peeled back and lets more light in. Ash wants to glare, but Eiji ignores him in favor of pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Sleep more if you want.” He sits back up, smiling, and Ash gives him a baleful look. “I will make coffee and leave it in the pot for you, then. I think I will go ahead and go out and do groceries, so there is less crowd.”

Oh, _fuck_ that. Ugh. Ash groans, heaves a sigh, and shoves himself into a sitting position. The air is cool against his skin and makes him want to dive right back under the blanket, but instead he just rubs his face. “Why do you like mornings so much?”

“The day is bright and new!” Eiji hops up from the bed and throws open the curtains. Ash squints against the light. “It is a nice time to get the day started.”

“Come back,” Ash grumbles, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and holding out his arms.

Eiji obediently comes over and hugs him, letting Ash lay his head against his stomach and sigh. He loosely drapes his arms around Eiji’s hips and leans into him, closing his eyes, and Eiji hums and kisses the top of his head. He’s soft and cute, with messy hair and a too-big shirt that goes down to his thighs—it used to be Ash’s, but he’s claimed it for good—and is old and thin enough that Ash can feel the warmth of his chest through the fabric. He smells nice, too.

“Awake yet?” Eiji asks, stroking his fingers over the ridges in his spine. “We can go have breakfast.”

“Mngh. Coffee.”

“Coffee can be part of breakfast.” Eiji pets his hair. “Did you sleep well?”

Ash nods against his shirt. “Only woke up that one time.”

“Good!” Eiji drops another quick kiss to the top of his head. Ash has to hold on tighter, pressing him close, and he hears a smile in his voice, too. “Do you want to come wash up and eat now?”

Ash groans again. “Guess so. You’re making me, anyway.”

“I _said,_ you can sleep more if you want.”

Ash gives him a dark look. “Yeah, well, I wanna go do groceries with you, and you insist on doing it at fucking ass-o-clock in the morning, so what choice do I have?”

Eiji laughs. “Okay, then you have no choice. Get up!”

“Don’t wanna.” Ash flops backwards, pulling Eiji with him, and Eiji yelps as he topples back onto the bed. Ash rolls over so he’s lying half on top of him, head on his chest and an arm and leg thrown over him, and smiles in satisfaction. “There.”

“Ash!” Eiji pushes at his shoulder. “I said, get up!”

Ash doesn’t move. “I said I don’t wanna.”

Eiji huffs, puffing his cheeks out in that cute way he always does. Ash hides a grin. “At least let me get up!”

“Mmm… don’t wanna do that, either.” He turns his head to plant a quick kiss on Eiji’s chest, over the shirt, and nestles his head back towards his shoulder. “You’re cozy.”

“Ugh…” Eiji wraps his arms around him, clearly trying not to smile. “You are such a pain.”

_You love me for it,_ Ash wants to joke back, but the words stick in his throat like barbed thorns and refuse to come out. He lets them go.

Part of him wants to ask, to confirm— _you_ do _love me, right?_ —but the idea of actually saying it out loud makes him recoil. It’s such a loaded question. Even if Eiji wanted to say no, he wouldn’t. He’s too kind. And Ash doesn’t want to make him feel obligated to do anything, from telling him he loves him to holding him or kissing him or anything else, if he doesn’t want to do it.

He closes his eyes instead and focuses on Eiji’s heartbeat. Normally, that always soothes him. But Eiji’s hand curls into his hair, and he has to swallow hard against a sudden swell of icky, nauseating guilt. Didn’t Eiji want to get up? Playful or not, he _is_ making him stay in bed, after he already said he wanted to get up and do things. He’s being selfish, ignoring Eiji’s desires to satisfy his own.

_You’re just like me,_ Dino’s voice whispers, and that’s the last straw. Ash jerks away, sits up, and rakes his hand through his hair.

“Ash?” Eiji sits up more slowly as Ash scoots to the edge of the bed, swings his legs over again, and stands.

“I’m getting up, like you said,” Ash answers, and heads to the bathroom.

By the time they sit down over breakfast, he’s managed to stuff that little voice far, far to the back of his head, where with any luck it’ll stay until he goes to sleep at night. Still, he’s careful to keep quiet and not complain as much as he normally would, just drinking his coffee and the oatmeal Eiji hands him in silence.

How much of his “normal” personality is lifted from the men who hurt him? Even the little, seemingly harmless things. He’s… selfish. Like this morning! Eiji didn’t owe him any extra time to snooze and lie around. The only reason he didn’t complain is that he’s a sweet, generous person. And sure, lying in bed for an extra five minutes is harmless, but what if that’s not the only thing? What if Ash has been inadvertently taking advantage of his kind nature this whole time?

He has to watch himself better. He _can’t_ be like them. Not to Eiji.

“You are quiet,” Eiji observes, sitting on the other side of the table and watching him with a smile. “Still sleepy?”

Ash shrug noncommitally. He feels numb. “Mm.”

Eiji laughs. “I guess the coffee has not kicked in yet.”

God, he wants to reach over and take Eiji’s hand, just wanting that simple assurance that Eiji does care about him, but he doesn’t let himself. After all, if he’s the one to initiate it, who’s to say that Eiji isn’t just holding him or reassuring him because he’s too kind to say no, rather than because he actually wants to? Eiji isn’t obligated to spend time reassuring him all day.

_Help me,_ he nearly begs, staring down at his oatmeal. _My mind is convinced I’m awful for you but you told me it’s horrible for you when I’m gone, and I don’t know what to think but this silence in my head is so loud—_

He stuffs a spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth. The tiny clink of metal on ceramic is nearly deafening.

After breakfast, they both get dressed to go out. Eiji checks over his grocery list again, mumbling to himself as he goes down each entry, and Ash has to swallow a sudden lump in his throat. His chest feels tight, and god he wants to go over and tuck himself into Eiji’s arms and feel safe and cherished and hidden away from the world for a little while, but he _can’t._ They have things to do.

_You’re just like—_

“Are you okay?” Eiji asks, looking up from the paper in his hand with a quizzical tilt to his head. “You are staring.”

“Yeah,” Ash manages, ruthlessly forcing his voice to be steady and light. “Just zoned out for a sec.”

Eiji’s lips twitch. “Okay. Are you ready to go?”

God, Ash doesn’t want to go out and deal with seeing crowds in the streets and his inability to stop watching exits and eyeing everyone with suspicion, not when he’s trying to figure out what is _wrong_ with him, but he already said he wanted to go out, and changing his mind would tip Eiji off that something’s wrong. And he doesn’t want to force Eiji to put together his broken pieces again.

Besides, nothing _is_ wrong. He’s just… reevaluating. He’s fine.

He’s fine.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

It’s sunny and not too warm outside, the morning chill still settled over the city like a layer of fog. Ash tucks his hands into his pockets, fists clenched tightly enough he can feel his nails digging into his palms, and follows Eiji down the street to the grocery store. Eiji looks like he’s in a good mood, smiling into the sunshine and humming as they walk; Ash mentally kicks himself for feeling shitty while Eiji’s happy. If he ends up ruining Eiji’s day, he won’t forgive himself.

“I was thinking about making some beef curry for tonight!” Eiji glances up at him with a bright smile. “We could eat the leftovers of that tomorrow, too. Does that sound good, or do you want something else?”

Ash shrugs. He’ll eat whatever. It doesn’t matter. “Sure.”

Eiji frowns a little, but doesn’t comment. Ash wishes he would.

The grocery store is well-lit and cheery, with colorful signs decorating each aisle and declaring the prices of the goods. Eiji picks up a basket and heads to the fresh produce to examine the greens, and Ash trails after him, trying to make himself stop being so mopey. One nightmare shouldn’t have this big of an effect on him…

…except that it doesn’t have anything to do with the nightmare, not really, and has everything to do with this new, sudden horrible fear that he really _can’t_ escape. That he really is just like them, trapped in a cycle that he can never leave, no matter how far he runs. What if he ends up hurting Eiji? He would rather die, but—

But dying would hurt Eiji, too. He still remembers how bitterly Eiji cried into his arms when they first reunited, how there was no spark in his eyes until he saw him, until Ash promised that he really was alive, and it wasn’t a dream. How much he wept.

He doesn’t know what to think. His head feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton.

If only Eiji would turn around and _see._ If only Eiji didn’t trust him enough to believe him when he said he was fine earlier. If only he could make the nausea clogging his throat dissipate so he could blurt out _no, I’m not fine, I lied, help me, help me, please._

But begging for help, as much as he desperately aches to, would be wrong. It’d be manipulative and bad because Eiji’s in a good mood and so why can’t Ash be in one too? If he asks for help Eiji will feel obligated to help him, and he _can’t_ make him—he can’t ask for simple reassurance or a hug or a kiss! He can’t manipulate Eiji into giving him kisses or affection or anything. He… he can’t. He can’t.

“Okumura-kun?”

He snaps out of his thoughts and realizes he’s mindlessly followed Eiji to the broccoli stand, where an unfamiliar girl just greeted Eiji, and…?

“Oh!” Eiji turns, sees her, and lights up. “Takada-kun!”

Takada laughs and holds out her arms to give Eiji a quick hug. She’s shorter than him, and has to lean up on her toes to get her arms around his neck, and he laughs as he gives her a squeeze and steps back, beaming.

Their ensuing conversation is in Japanese, and it goes a little too fast for Ash to follow. He catches a few words here and there— _summer,_ and _vacation,_ and _Nahoko,_ enough for him to gather that Eiji is talking about spending his summer break at home with his sister, and his mood sours further. Eiji sounds perfectly happy to be here, standing in the grocery store and talking to this girl, presumably one of his friends from university; meanwhile, Ash is stuck in a cloud of despair, unable to move forward.

He was right to begin with. Eiji doesn’t really need him. All he does is hold him back.

Part of him seriously contemplates just turning around and walking out. Out of the store, down to the train station, back to the airport, out of Eiji’s life. He thinks about it for a second, about leaving, about letting Eiji get on with his life, about getting back on an airplane and going—

Going where?

(It’s not fucking fair that neither Griffin nor Shorter have marked graves. At least let him go collapse on one of their headstones and fucking die there.)

“Ash!” Eiji’s voice interrupts, and he jerks himself back to the present. His throat is closing up, and his chest hurts. “This is my friend Takada! We took a few classes together last year. She just moved back, too! Takada-kun, this is my boyfriend, Ash. We met when I went to America!”

“Hello!” Takada says, cutesy and chipper. Her accent is much stronger than Eiji’s, and there’s a big pink bow in her hair. Ash stares at it for a moment as she holds out her hand. “It is very nice to meet you, Ash!”

Ash does not shake it. “Whatever,” he says, and nearly winces at  how caustic his own voice sounds. “I mean. Yeah.”

Takada looks startled, retracting her hand after a second and looking at Eiji with a furrowed brow. Eiji, in turn, frowns and looks up at him.

“Ash,” he cajoles. “Be nice!”

He can’t do this. He can’t. There’s a lump in his throat so big it hurts to swallow and his chest is tight with tears and he doesn’t know what he’s still doing here, not when it’s obvious that he doesn’t belong, that he’s a mistake, that he can never escape. “Guess I’m just not a fucking nice person.”

_“Ash!”_ Eiji exclaims, but Ash has had enough. He turns on his heel and strides out of the store, not even sure where he’s going. Eiji cries out his name behind him, but he doesn’t stop.

His first instinct is to vanish into the streets—it’s always easiest to hide in a crowd—but as he approaches an intersection (any intersection) and hurries across the crosswalk, it hits him unpleasantly that he doesn’t know these streets well enough. He doesn’t know enough Japanese to disappear underground like he did in New York.

And he’s clearly an outsider. He’s tall and blond. He stands out.

Fuck.

His phone is ringing. It must be Eiji. He rounds another corner and stops and fishes it out of his pocket, chest heaving with the effort to hold back tears, and his breath catches in his throat at the sight of Eiji’s picture on the screen as it vibrates. It’s a photo from their beach trip two months ago, and Eiji is absolutely radiant in the sun. Ash himself is cut off, but his arm is slung about Eiji’s shoulders.

He waits until the phone stops ringing before he turns it off and stuffs it back in his pocket. It hurts.

He wanders aimlessly across a few blocks, drifting more or less in circles, for a little while, but the more he walks the more it becomes obvious that he just wants to break down, and he _can’t_ do that in public. Not when a hundred concerned strangers will ask him what’s wrong and each and every one of them will trigger his fight-or-flight response.

With a heavy heart, he drags himself back towards their apartment building. How funny it is. Yesterday everything felt like a new beginning, moving in here with Eiji, just like New York but so different. Today, it all feels the same. He can’t escape.

He enters the building and hesitates for a long minute. He doesn’t know where to go. He—he can’t face Eiji, not yet. He’ll be mad, demanding an explanation for why Ash was so rude to his friend, and Ash—Ash doesn’t have one.

_You’re just like me…_

In the end, he avoids the elevator up to their fifth-floor apartment and just goes to the stairwell, starts to climb, and sinks down onto the steps somewhere just past the fourth floor landing, face in his hands. At least there’s no one here. He feels… awful.

And yet, of course, now that he’s alone, the tears don’t come. His chest is still tight and his throat hurts, and his stomach is tied into a complex, twisted knot of pain and sorrow, but his eyes stay dry; he can feel the numbness returning, and he’s too tired to fight it off. Just like New York. Just like…

God, he’s just so tired. He leans against the wall and closes his eyes, head bowed. Maybe it would’ve been better if he hadn’t faked his death, after all. If it had just been… real.

Guilt immediately punches him in the gut. Just last night, didn’t he promise Eiji he was never going to be so selfish as to leave him again? What is _wrong_ with him?

Vaguely nauseous again, Ash pulls his phone out of his pocket, and with a deep breath, turns it on. It lights up with three more missed calls from Eiji, and eleven messages. He stares at the screen, processing, and kind of wants to throw up.

God, no matter what he does, he’ll always end up hurting Eiji, won’t he? He can’t do anything right.

> [10:42] 💕eiji💕:  
>  what happened??? D:
> 
> [10:45] 💕eiji💕:  
>  where are you?
> 
> [10:49] 💕eiji💕:  
>  ash please   
>  im worried
> 
> [10:54] 💕eiji💕:  
>  where are you? please call me im getting scared
> 
> [10:56] 💕eiji💕:  
>  i do not know what to do, ash please at least are you okay?
> 
> [11:03] 💕eiji💕:  
>  ash?????   
>  😭😭😭💔💔💔  
>  where are you?????
> 
> [11:09] 💕eiji💕:  
>  aslan? im scared are you okay please say something
> 
> [11:16] 💕eiji💕:  
>  please come home…

Fuck.

He’s the worst boyfriend alive. Worst friend, even. Worst—just the worst in general. He needs to go home and apologize. He can figure out what the fuck to do with himself after that.

Except… when he tries to get up, his legs don’t work. His knees feel weak and his chest is tight and it’s hard to breathe, and… god, fuck, he—he needs to tell Eiji…

Before he can second-guess himself, he presses _call._

Eiji picks up on the first ring. “Ash?! Where are you? Are you okay? What happened? I was so—”

“Eiji,” he whimpers into the phone, squeezing his eyes shut. The tears that didn’t come a minute ago are back, threatening to spill out now that he’s heard Eiji’s voice again, and oh, god, he’s fucked everything up. “Eiji? Can—can you come get me?”

“Of course.” Eiji doesn’t even hesitate. “Where are you?”

“The—the stairs.” Ash tries to take a deep breath, but it’s shallow and shaky and not very helpful. “I… almost made it up. Didn’t, though.”

“I will be right there,” Eiji promises, relief palpable in his voice, and Ash hears a door close from his end.

It only takes a few seconds for the stairwell door to open, and then footsteps hurry down from the fifth floor and round the landing, and Ash twists around from where he’s slumped against the wall to see Eiji. He looks like an angel, framed by harsh fluorescent lights, as he gasps softly at the sight of Ash. He stumbles and nearly falls in his haste to run to him.

“Ash,” he breathes, flinging his arms around his shoulders and pulling him to his chest. “Ash, Ash, Ash, oh, there you are…”

His arms are strong and their weight against Ash’s back is real and tangible, and he feels like comfort and he smells like home. Ash loosely curls his fingers into the fabric of his hoodie, bows his head against his chest, and grits his teeth as his hot tears silently spill over.

“Oh, Ash,” Eiji murmurs, holding him tighter. “I am here, it is okay… my sweet Ash, my darling. What… happened?”

Ash swallows a sob and tries to clear his throat. “Can—can we go home? Please?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Eiji kisses the top of his head, gives him a tight squeeze, and slowly withdraws, keeping his hand on Ash’s shoulder. “Here. Come with me, okay? Stay with me.”

His other hand cups Ash’s elbow, and with inerringly gentle touches he helps Ash to his feet. Ash wobbles a little, but his knees don’t buckle this time, and as Eiji slips an arm about his waist, he leans into him for support. They walk up the stairs together, slowly, until they reach their landing, and Ash pulls the hallway door open before Eiji can. Eiji glances up at him, smiles slightly, and pecks his cheek.

Once they’re back in their apartment, Eiji closes and locks the door and guides him to sit on the couch. Ash clutches at him the entire way, until Eiji settles down next to him and kisses his cheek again.

“What happened, Aslan?” he asks again, voice soft and tender.

Ash slumps against him, presses his face into his chest, and bursts into tears.

He cries so hard he gives himself a coughing fit, clinging to Eiji and sobbing like his heart might break. His head is so stuffed full of silence it feels like it might explode, and he’s so disgusted with himself for everything he’s done today that he can hardly breathe, and the combination is killing him. Eiji clasps him in a tight, tight hug.

“What is it?” He rubs his back, trying to soothe, but Ash is too far gone. “Oh, Ash, talk to me. What is it?”

Ash just sobs harder.

It takes him a while to be able to catch his breath, let alone talk; after a few minutes, Eiji accepts that he can’t speak and just holds him, stroking his back. His touch is comforting, even if it doesn’t stem the tide, and Ash just clutches at him and cries and cries and cries.

When his tears finally slow to sniffles, Eiji kisses the top of his head again. “Do… do you want to talk yet?”

Ash nods miserably. He needs to say it. Keeping it in clearly hasn’t worked. “Eiji… ‘m so sorry…”

Eiji caresses the back of his shoulder. “What happened? Please tell me.”

“I—I don’t know.” Ash blows out a breath. His head is so full of silent, deafening fog that it’s hard to remember how he felt this morning, felt an hour ago, felt at all before he cried everything out just now. “I just—I don’t know how to be good enough for you, b-but I know you must be sick of hearing me say shit like this, so I didn’t—I didn’t wanna say it _again_ and make you have to tell me you think I already am good enough, again, because I, I feel like—I know you love me, but I still think what if I—I must have tricked you? Maybe? Somehow? I don’t know, I don’t know what’s going on with me. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, _Ash.”_ Eiji breathes out a sigh. “You scared me so badly.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“No—” Eiji cuts him off, touching his cheek. “I mean, I was scared because I love you. Like you said. I do.”

Ash squeezes his eyes shut. The guilt is back. “I know. I don’t know why I keep thinking like this but I can’t stop, and it makes me feel like I don’t deserve you or—or your love, but that’s wrong, too, because—I _promised_ you I’d never be selfish enough to leave you, and—god, Eiji, I don’t know what to think, my head is just so _loud!”_

He’s crying again. Eiji strokes his shoulders, kisses his forehead, and presses him close, murmuring sweet nothings into his hair for several seconds. “It will be okay, Ash. I am here, and I love you. Nothing is going to change that. I love you.”

Ash just burrows into his neck. His face feels all sticky from tears. “Love you, too. I just… I want it to _stop._ ”

“I wish I knew how to make it,” Eiji admits. “You are a good person. You do not deserve this suffering. It is not fair.”

“Mm. Not a good person.” Ash bites his lip, hard. It hurts. “Selfish and bad and… and…”

_You’re just like—_

“Not selfish!” Eiji pokes his back with reproach. “And _very_ good! The best in the world!”

“I keep forcing you to do shit for me,” Ash persists. He’s so tired. “Like right now. I made you worry and now I’m making you deal with my stupid ass.”

“I worry about you because _I love you,”_ Eiji says, emphasizing the last three words with three more sharp pokes to his back. “And you are not making me do anything right now. I am _choosing_ to hold you and take care of you. If I wanted to, I could just walk away. But I do not want to. I want to be here for you, Ash.”

That… feels too good to be true. But it doesn’t ring hollow, and Ash lies there, frozen, hanging in the air above the abyss instead of falling again. Eiji won’t let him fall, right? He can trust Eiji. He does trust Eiji. “You… do?”

“I do.” Eiji gives him another tight squeeze, and he lets out a shuddering breath. “There is nothing I would not do for you.”

“I’m scared,” Ash blurts out, his voice very small. He closes his eyes and curls in tighter, feeling far too vulnerable, and admits into the crook of Eiji’s neck, “I’m so fucking scared that I’m no better than the old man, or his goons, or any of them. That one day I might hurt you by just being selfish and shitty, and I won’t even think of it because I’m—I’m just like him, in the end, and I can’t escape it no matter how far I run, and… and I… I don’t know what to _do,_ Eiji, I’m scared, I couldn’t live with myself if I did that to you but if I just died or left it’d hurt you too and I d-don’t know what to do!”

Eiji hugs him fiercely as he fights back another sob. “Oh, Ash no. No, no, no. Oh, _Ash_ , lovely Ash, my sweetest Ash… My Aslan. My lionheart. You do not need to be afraid of that, ever.”

“But I do,” Ash cries. His heart is an empty void. “I do! If I ever hurt you—”

“That is exactly why you do not need to be afraid,” Eiji interrupts, rocking him side-to-side just a little. “If you were anything like them, you would not care if you hurt me. You might even _want_ to hurt me.”

“Never,” Ash chokes out, horrified at just the thought. “Never, never, never—”

“See?” Eiji cups his cheek, gently lifts his face, and thumbs away a stray tear. “You are _nothing_ like the men who hurt you. You are full of light and love. And you are a good person, with a good heart.”

Ash stares helplessly at him, trying and failing to grasp for words. He isn’t—but if—he can’t just—

“You are the best person in the world,” Eiji repeats, and leans in to give him a gentle kiss.

It’s slow and tender, the way Eiji cradles his jaw and presses his soft lips to his. Ash can taste the salt from his own tears and the sweet of Eiji’s strawberry-flavored lip balm, and he kisses back desperately. He’s been craving this all morning—Eiji’s reassurance, Eiji’s embrace, Eiji’s kisses, Eiji’s love.

His breath catches in his throat when Eiji breaks the kiss, pressing their foreheads together with one hand still cupping his jaw. He wants Eiji to kiss him more, to keep telling him he loves him and that it’s okay, until he believes it. “Eiji, I… you…”

“It is okay,” Eiji murmurs, when he trails off. “You can say it.”

Ash pulls back and tucks his face back into his neck. “I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” Eiji threads his fingers into his hair and gently rubs his scalp. “You can say anything you want to say. It is okay.”

Ash shakes his head. “It’d be… manipulative. I think. And gross. And bad.”

Eiji sighs softly and strokes his hair down to the nape of his neck, his other hand tapping out a gentle rhythm between his shoulderblades. “Will you tell me what it is?”

Ash squeezes his eyes shut and sucks in a breath. “I… want you to kiss me more?”

Eiji’s hands still. He’s silent for a long, terrifying heartbeat.

“How is that manipulative?”

Ash makes a tiny frustrated noise in the back of his throat. How doesn’t he see? “Because. If I say I want you to kiss me, you might feel obligated to say yes even if you don’t actually want to kiss me.”

“Hmm.” Eiji doesn’t sound convinced. “By that logic, then I should never ask you to kiss me, either, in case I make you feel obligated to say yes, right?”

“No, that’s not—” Ash huffs. “It’s _different.”_

“It is not.” Eiji scrunches his fingers through his hair again, tapping the side of his head. “Ask me to kiss you, Ash.”

“But—”

“Ask me.”

Ash takes a deep breath and lifts his head. Eiji has that stubborn gleam in his eye that means he’s on a mission, and he won’t let anything save physical impossibility stop him. “Will you kiss me?”

Eiji’s answer is immediate and resolute.

“No.”

Ash stares at him for a second, helpless. “Oh. I… okay.”

Eiji catches his chin before he can look away, not letting him shrink in on himself. “See? If I want to say no, I am not afraid to. I know I can say no to you, and you will not be angry with me. It is not manipulative for you to ask me what I am okay with doing. Okay?”

Ash stares at him, a little stunned. Of course he knows Eiji isn’t afraid of him, isn’t afraid of saying _no_ to him—haven’t they had a thousand dumb arguments over dumber shit, just because they’re both contrary?—but hearing it out loud, in this context, is… eye-opening.

“Okay,” he manages.

Eiji smiles brightly. “Good. Now, Ash, will you kiss me?”

“Of course,” Ash breathes, but just as he leans in, Eiji stops him with one finger to his lips. He kisses his fingertip instead, and Eiji’s breath catches in his throat. His gaze is nothing short of adoring.

“Did that feel manipulative to you?” Eiji drops his finger. “Or did it feel like I was checking if you were okay with kissing me?”

This definitely feels too good to be true, but Ash is far too tired of feeling awful for everything to try and find extra arguments. “I… it didn’t feel manipulative. It felt considerate.”

“Yes. Exactly.” Eiji looks so pleased with himself he’s nearing _smug_. “So. Do you still want me to kiss you?”

“Yes, please?”

Eiji laughs softly, pecks the tip of his nose, and kisses him again.

They spend several minutes like that, pressing tender kisses all over each other’s faces. Ash knows he’s gross and sticky and salty from crying, but Eiji doesn’t complain, just trailing kisses in a line along his jaw and stroking his cheeks, and he’s so grateful his eyes water again. God, he loves Eiji.

The kisses slow after a little while, and Ash lays his head down on Eiji’s shoulder again, feeling more like he can breathe than he has all day. Eiji loves him, and he’s not like them. He’s not.

(Maybe if Eiji tells him enough times, he’ll even believe it fully.)

Eiji rests a hand on the back of his head, gentle and protective, and after a moment taps his fingers to get his attention. “Ash… what do you think about going to therapy?”

Ash goes still. “I’m that fucked up, huh?”

“Ash—”

“I guess I am.” He laughs hollowly, an echo of the numb bitterness from earlier reverberating in his chest. “Guess being someone’s fucking whore does that to you. Shit. God. I’m sorry you have to deal with me when I’m like this.”

“Stop,” Eiji says, a little upset. “Stop talking about yourself like that. You _know_ I do not agree. You are not something I have to ‘deal with’!”

Ash kisses his neck, contrite and guilty again. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

Eiji lets out a slow breath. “Thank you. I do not… I am asking because _I_ went, Ash. I went to talk to a nice lady in Izumo, once I came back from America, and it helped me a lot. And I think it could help you, too. I do not think you are irreversibly ‘fucked up’. I have never thought that. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know.” Ash looks up at him, caresses his cheek. “I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry. I know you don’t.”

“It is okay. You are upset.” Eiji looks down at him and kisses his brow. “I know you do not mean any of these things. I just… I want you to be happy. And I think talking to someone about it could help. So… would you want to try?”

Ash hesitates for a long moment. The idea of opening up to a stranger who thinks they can fix him is… less than appealing, but… well, trying couldn’t possibly be worse than spending all his days like today. And if Eiji wants him to try, he wants to. “I guess. We can try. I don’t know if… I won’t make any promises about sticking with anyone. But we can try.”

“That is all I can ask of you,” Eiji says, smiling. “Sweet Ash. I love you very much. Do you want to wash your face now?”

Ash winces. He definitely got tears and snot on Eiji’s shirt… Eiji is just being nice by not pointing it out. “Uh. Yeah, probably.”

Eiji laughs softly and gives him one quick final kiss before they sit up, and Ash groans before he trudges to the bathroom to wash up and blow his nose. When he comes out, Eiji’s sitting on the couch again, though Ash notes he’s wearing a different shirt.

“Come here?” he asks, holding out his arms, and Ash goes to him immediately, sinking to his knees and burying his face in Eiji’s chest. “Mm, Ash…” Eiji sighs, rubbing his shoulders and pressing his cheek against his hair. “We will be fine. Okay?”

Ash peeps up at him. “You’re always so sure about things like this.”

Eiji makes a face. “I am too stubborn to let anything get in my way when I am busy making my cute American boyfriend happy.”

That gets a snort, before Ash remembers the fiasco at the store and groans. “Oh, god… I was such an ass to your friend. Sorry. Shit, I should apologize to her, too…”

“It is okay.” Eiji gives him a tight squeeze. “She was just concerned that something was wrong, when you left. She is not offended.”

Ash sighs. His knees are a little stiff, but he doesn’t want to let go of Eiji yet. “Still.”

“You can text her from my phone later, if you want to,” Eiji offers, petting his hair. “For now, let us just… rest, for a little while. Oh! You should drink water, after crying. It will make your head hurt less.”

Ash sighs again and doesn’t move. “Mm. Yeah.”

“This is not drinking water.” Eiji prods his shoulder after a few seconds. “Get up!”

Pulling back, Ash pulls his arms to his sides as he blows his hair out of his face. “Don’t wanna.”

Eiji ruffles his hair so it falls right back down across his eyes and giggles. Ash rakes a hand through it to push it back and gives him a dry look, and he promptly leans down and kisses his forehead.

“Come on,” he says, standing and holding out a hand. “You will drink some water, and then we can go lie down for a while.”

“I could go for a nap,” Ash admits, following him to the kitchen. “Head feels heavy.”

“I am not surprised.” Eiji hands him a glass, and he fills it and drains the whole thing in one go. Eiji shakes his head. “You are like a camel! You can drink slowly, you know!”

“You wanted me to drink water, so I drank water.” Ash slumps forward into his arms, letting himself whine a little. Eiji loves him, so he’s allowed to be whiny. “Be nice to me, I’m delicate.”

Eiji laughs, rubs his back, and then steps back. “Come, you poor delicate American. Let us nap.”

Ash follows him back to the bedroom, where the bed waits with its enticing blanket and pillows. Funny, that today started out so simple, and yet now… “You put the groceries away already?” he asks, pulling off his jeans and tossing them aside in favor of his pajamas. 

“Yes.” Eiji just wiggles out of his pants, leaves them on the floor, and flops onto the bed, sitting up after a second to close the curtains, almost as an afterthought. “I… was not sure what else to do, so I just paid and brought them home like normal.”

Ash crawls over to him, pulls the blankets up, and drops a kiss to his collarbone. “Sorry, honey.”

“It is okay.” Eiji’s hand finds its way into his hair again. “We are okay.”

“Yeah,” Ash says, and closes his eyes. “We’re okay.”

And they are.

* * *

Eiji comes to him as he stands on the balcony that night, looking up.

“We should get some chairs to put here,” he says, glancing at the empty expanse. “Maybe a table, also?”

“A little one, yeah.” Ash glances at him, holds out an arm. “C’mere?”

Eiji tucks himself against his side easily, wrapping his arm around his waist. “It is a little chilly out here. Why are you not wearing a sweater?”

“It’s not cold, you baby.”

Eiji lightly elbows him, then lays his head against his shoulder. Several minutes pass. It’s quiet, or as quiet as the city gets—people are still walking the streets, talking here and there, and cars zoom past down below—and peaceful, here, in their little undisturbed bubble. Ash gazes from the buildings around them up, to the dark sky, and contemplates the moon.

“It is like you,” Eiji says suddenly, his voice soft, and Ash looks down at him.

“What do you mean?”

“So pale it lights up and glows in the sun.” Eiji grins, and Ash rolls his eyes.

“Ha ha. You’re hilarious.”

Eiji just gives him a squeeze. “I just mean… the moon is covered in scars of its own, but that does not make it any less beautiful.”

Ash’s breath catches in his throat. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Eiji agrees, a little smile in his voice. Ash looks down at him for a long moment, trying to find the right words, but none come, and after a moment he gives up. Besides, he figures it’s much more romantic to pull his boyfriend close and kiss him sweetly in the moonlight.

**Author's Note:**

> ash is a GOOD BOY and trauma is Hard but he will learn to handle it better and he will be HAPPY!!! thanks for coming to my ted talk.


End file.
